


The Great South Side Bake Off

by ProstheticLoVe



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Gallavich Gift Giving Game 2020, Holiday Fic Exchange, Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich in Love, M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Mickey and Ian bake together, holiday baking, rated as teens cause of swearing, very sweet, you may want to eat a cookie while reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27904414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProstheticLoVe/pseuds/ProstheticLoVe
Summary: Mickey and Ian bake together.Part of the Gallavich Gift Giving Game 2020 (put together by GallavichThings) for thehonorarybeaumont.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 6
Kudos: 86





	The Great South Side Bake Off

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: No one belongs to me! If they did, we’d have a whole show of Gallavich scenes.
> 
> Prompt 10. (from @thehonorarybeaumont) Ian and Mickey baking together. Cookies, bread, brownies, special brownies, whatever, I just want them to bake - or attempt to bake - together. It works as a fanart or as a one-shot, I’d love either!
> 
> Author's Note: Hello! Here is my Gallavich Gift Giving Fic. It's my first time participating in a fic gift giving exchange, so I hope it's okay. The prompt is above. Thank you SO MUCH to AnnaNSmith for the very helpful insight and feedback! I very much appreciate it.
> 
> I hope you guys like it! It's very holiday centric, so I hope everyone is ready for some holiday cheer. Enjoy the fic and the premier!

“Mickey?” 

Liam’s wide eyes peered at him from over the top of the gun magazine he was perusing. It was the same exact look all of the Gallaghers wore when they wanted something and they knew it was going to be an uphill battle to get it. Ian gave it to him at least twice a day, especially when he tried to get out of doing dishes. Or when he asked Mickey to come with him to some holiday work party even though he’d rather chew glass than be subjected to Ian’s coworkers.

“What?” 

“What are you doing?”

“The fuck does it look like?”

Liam narrowed his eyes at him and then held up his phone. Wiggling it in his hand, Mickey looked back and forth between the slim device and Liam’s pointed expression.

Was he supposed to know what was going on?

Had he missed something?

“What’s wrong?” Mickey asked. 

Slowly, he put down the magazine, letting it rest on his belly. If he was being honest, he hadn’t really been taking in a word of the article he’d been reading about France and the Vietnam War anyway. He was too preoccupied with the holidays fast approaching. He still hadn’t gotten Ian anything. He’d never actually had to buy a gift for him in the past, but this year Ian had insisted on starting traditions and shit. 

Today he was supposed to have at least  _ looked _ at possible gifts for him. But he had no idea where to start and ended up staring at websites instead of achieving his goal. He’d considered straight up asking Ian what he wanted, but he kept going on and on about how he’d found Mickey  _ the perfect gift _ . 

Mickey wanted to find Ian the perfect gift too. 

(His teen self would have his ass for just thinking about buying romantic gifts for his  _ husband,  _ but Mickey really couldn’t give a shit when he was already imagining the excited expression on Ian’s face as he tore through the wrapping paper.)

Maybe his preoccupation with Ian’s gift was what made him miss the telltale signs that Liam was going to give him the signature Gallagher ‘please do this for me because you like me’ look. (Mickey would never admit to how much the Gallaghers had grown on him.)

“We’re doing a holiday baking--”

“Nope.”

“But--”

“Ask your brother.”

“Which one?”

“Any of them. Just not me.”

“But  _ Mickey-- _ ”

“I don’t like baking.”

Liam’s narrowed eyes turned into a glare. Mickey’s hands itched to pick up the magazine to block his face out. He did not want to deal with this right now. He always had a soft spot for Liam. But right now he wanted to read about the type of submachine gun France used during the early part of the Vietnam War and avoid thinking about how Christmas was in two weeks and he had absolutely nothing to show for it. 

_ Maybe a new switchblade? _

_ What about a book? Ian liked to read... _

It was his first day off in a long time. He was supposed to toe the line between Christmas shopping and sitting on the couch and doing nothing while Ian was at work. (Thanks to the internet and a laptop he’d stolen for him and Ian, he was able to do both.)

But then Debs had saddled him with Franny and apparently Liam had the day off cause of budget cuts (he really didn’t listen past ‘I’ll be home...’), his plans went to shit. 

He’d set Franny up coloring at the kitchen table and Liam had been content to sit and watch TV for most of the day. Until apparently, he remembered - or had been biding his time - to ask Mickey to bake him some shit for a bake sale.

Who even did bake sales anymore?

“Please? Ian’s already helping Franny with her cupcakes and--”

“Wait what?” Mickey asked, confused.

“Ian already said he’d help with Franny’s holiday bake sale. Carl is, well, he doesn’t know how to bake. And Lip is too busy with Fred and Tami. I already bought the sugar and flour and stuff, but I--”

“Aren’t you like 10? Shouldn’t you know how to bake stuff by now? You cooked mac n cheese last week.”

Liam sighed impatiently as if Mickey was the one that was hindering him from achieving his goal instead of the other way around.

“I can cook. Cooking is a necessity.  _ Baking _ is a luxury.”

Mickey stared at Liam incredulously. When it seemed as if Mickey was going to say no, Liam gave him that look again - the same one Ian used when he wanted to drag him out for a run - and said, “Fiona would’ve made them for me.”

A pit of guilt began to take shape in his stomach. Ian and Mickey had many long conversations about the effects of Fiona leaving Liam the way she did. It was really only around the holidays that Liam would begin to say things like this. Generally, he was self-reliant, but lately he’d been bringing up Fiona a lot. Ian thought he missed her. Mickey thought he was resentful toward her. 

Sighing heavily, as if agreeing to baking was a hardship, Mickey said, “Fine.”

Mickey ignored the gleam of victory in his eye and heaved himself off the couch to head into the kitchen. Liam followed after him, a large smile of triumph on his face to match the glint in his eye.

“What are you doing, Uncle Mickey?” Franny asked looking up from where she was coloring. 

He winced when he saw that she’d gotten ink on the table. Debbie had specifically told him to watch her. But what was he going to do about it now? The damage had already been done. 

Besides, he and Ian had been watching Franny more than Debbie lately. And if he’d learned anything about kids between Yev, Franny, and even Liam, they were going to make a mess. Sometimes Franny would just look at him as if he were speaking another language when he told her to clean up. 

When he and Ian had kids, he hoped they had Ian’s clean-neat-freakness. In the years they had spent apart, Mickey had forgotten Ian’s need for everything to be in its rightful spot. After sharing a cell with him, he’d re-learned how anal (and not in a fun way) Ian could be. (Honestly, who cared if his shoes weren’t where they should be or his drawing materials were piled on Ian’s books?) And yet, it was a little easier to live with. Mickey didn’t mind it so much when he could easily locate his keys or wallet. 

“Baking.”

“Are you going to make my cupcakes too?” Franny asked excitedly.

Mickey looked back and forth between Liam and Franny. 

“You two plot this?”

Liam grinned, “no. Ian’s making hers. I told you.”

“Franny? Is Ian making your cupcakes?” Mickey asked, looking at his niece.

She gave a little shrug and went back to coloring, “I told Uncle Ian to, but he said to ask you.”

Mickey narrowed his eyes and turned back to Liam. “Ian’s baking her cupcakes, huh?”

Liam almost looked apologetic when he shrugged. “I thought he was.”

“Well, I’m not baking shit until your brother gets home. I’ve already been babysitting you all day.”

“But Mickey--”

“You don’t even have a recipe.”

“Yes, I do! Why do you think I’ve been holding out my phone?”

“I don’t know! Why do kids do anything?”

Liam let out a frustrated noise and then turned back to his phone. He typed some buttons and then Mickey’s own phone dinged. It was a recipe for Christmas cookies. Fuck, was he really going to do this? He’d never baked anything in his life. Cooking was easy. Cooking involved throwing shit together. But baking, it was a science. Or something like that. Ian liked baking. Mickey liked  _ eating _ his baked goods and that’s about it.

_ Where the fuck was Ian? Why wasn’t he here to deal with this? _

“Butter...sugar...vanilla extract...almond extract...what the fuck is evaporated milk?” Mickey asked, reading off the recipe. “Also, we don’t have these fucking cookie cutouts.”

Liam shrugged, “that’s what I was told to make.”

“But we don’t have all this stuff. You said you got sugar and flour, but--”

“I got  _ most _ of it.”

Mickey sighed and looked over at Franny. Her eyes were wide and excited as she watched them.

“Lil Red, what’s Ian supposed to make you?”

“Cupcakes!” 

“What kind?”

She gave another little shrug and Mickey gritted his teeth in annoyance. Didn’t these kids have any idea what they were supposed to be bringing to a bake sale? How was he supposed to help them when  _ they _ didn’t even know? 

When he and Ian had kids, he was going to make sure that if they needed help they were able to fucking verbalize it. He wasn’t a fucking mind reader. 

And what the fuck was up with these Christmas cookies? They didn’t have Christmas tree cutouts or gift ones or whatever people considered to be  _ holiday cookies _ . The cupcakes would be so -  _ wait _ , why was he even considering this?  _ Ian _ was supposed to be the one to help with the baking. Ian was the one who  _ liked _ baking. He wasn’t doing this without his husband. 

Unlocking his phone, Mickey googled ‘cupcake recipes’ and picked the first one that showed up. 

_ Moist Vanilla Cupcakes. _

“Fuck,  _ fine _ . We’re making vanilla cupcakes. I’ll make a list and text it to Ian to pick up on his way home. But I’m  _ not _ making shit until he gets here.”

Liam smirked and Franny nodded enthusiastically, but Mickey ignored them in favor of taking out his phone to text Ian.

**_Stop at the store on the way home?_ **

A text came back before Mickey could ask Liam to start checking for ingredients. 

**_What do we need?_ **

Mickey began to compile a grocery list internally cursing Liam, Franny,  _ and _ Ian. Were all the Gallaghers plotting against him? All he wanted was to figure out what to get his husband for Christmas - still no progress on that front - and now here he was being roped into baking a shit ton of cupcakes and cookies because he couldn’t say ‘no’ to his brother in-law and niece. 

Once the list was texted to Ian, Mickey went back to the couch, making sure to grab a beer on the way. He’d make the most of the remaining hours until Ian came home and they got to work baking the treats for Franny and Liam.

Because fuck knows he wasn’t baking all this shit alone.

Especially when Ian had already promised to help.

* * *

Ian came home with bags hanging off his arms and a look of annoyance on his face. He plopped the bags on the table and turned to Mickey who was sitting at the counter reading on his phone.

“Why did you have me get all this baking shit?”

Mickey turned to glare at him, “why do you think? Cause  _ your  _ family needs fucking holiday cookies and cupcakes and shit tomorrow for some bake sale. Do I look like Martha fucking Stewart?”

The first thing that went through Ian’s mind was a caustic comment about Mickey and Martha Stewart, but then the rest of what he said sank in. Ian blinked slowly and a lightbulb went off in his head. Franny had asked him yesterday while he was nearing the cusp of sleep to bake something for her holiday bake sale. It was devious of her to gently shake him awake enough to listen to her request, but not enough to actually remember it.

“Shit. I forgot.”

“Yeah, well, now we’re making cupcakes and cookies together, so buckle up Ms. Suzy Homemaker cause we’re about to cook like four dozen cupcakes and cookies.”

Ian gapped at him in shock, “the fuck? We need 48 cupcakes and--”

“No, we need 24 of each.”

Ian couldn’t shake the shock he was feeling at having to bake when all he wanted to do was sit on the couch, drink his one beer, and go to bed early. (Intermittent cuddling with his husband would of course be involved and welcomed.) He just got off work. The last thing he wanted to do was continue to be on his feet. 

“We need to do this  _ right now _ ? Tonight?”

Mickey nodded slowly; his lips in a tight grim line. 

Ian sighed and looked into the living room where Liam and Franny were pretending to watch TV, but were actually listening in to their conversation. 

He wanted to tell them that their procrastination had consequences. That they needed to plan if they had a bake sale instead of springing it on them at the last minute. He wanted to tell them they’d need to figure it out themselves. But Ian knew that wasn’t how this was going to play out. One look at their sad faces peeking at him from the living room clued him in to how he and Mickey were going to spend the evening. 

He made a mental note to talk to Mickey about when they had kids how they seriously needed to teach them not to procrastinate. The importance of respecting other people’s time. And how  _ not _ to spring sudden projects on them the night before it was due. 

“Where’s Debbie? Why isn’t she doing this?”

“I haven’t seen Peppermint Patty in like four days. And Franny asked  _ you _ , not her mom.”

Ian gritted his teeth, but began to nod slowly. “Fine, this is fine. There’s two of us, so let’s just split it. I make one and you make the other. Fucking easy.”

“Okay, fine.”

They looked at each other. 

“Cupcakes or cookies?” Mickey asked when Ian didn’t say anything.

“Cupcakes, I guess. That’s what Franny asked me to make.”

“Fine,” Mickey said.

They continued to look at each other. Neither of them made a move to begin getting the ingredients together or pulling out the bowls from the cupboards.

“So what’s the first step?” Ian asked.

“Read the directions.”

Mickey turned back to his phone and a moment later Ian’s phone buzzed with the recipe. He began to scroll through it and Mickey got up off the chair and began to look through the bags Ian had brought home. He scoffed when he saw the two cookie cutters he’d gotten. One was a pumpkin and the other was a train.

“The fuck are these?” Mickey asked, holding them up.

“Cookie cutters! That’s what you said to get,” Ian snapped. He really didn’t want to do this and they hadn’t even started backing yet. He didn’t mean to take it out on Mickey, but this wasn’t what he was imagining when he got home. He was hungry, still in his work attire, and he hadn’t even taken his shoes off.

“I need to eat something and change my clothes before we start this bake off,” Ian grumbled. He placed his phone on the counter, grabbed a Kind bar from the cupboard, and went upstairs to change. 

Mickey watched him go and then turned back to the bags full of baking ingredients. He sighed heavily, knowing this was a large mountain they were going to have to climb. If it was just making the cookies without decorating them, he’d be okay. But the decorating part was going to be a pain in the ass. Especially if Ian didn’t get--

“Dammit, Ian! Where are those fucking icing things I told you to get for decorating?”

He thought he heard his husband respond, but he couldn’t make out the words even if he had said something. He was upstairs and while the walls in the Gallagher household were thin, he still couldn’t make out if he’d apologized or told Mickey to go fuck himself.

Mickey bet that Ian had told him to go fuck himself.

“Shit,” Mickey muttered while he looked through the bags. 

Ian’d gotten everything else except the right shit to decorate the cookies.

It was Christmas for fuck’s sake not Halloween and who the fuck knew what to do with the train cookie cutout? 

How were they supposed to decorate the cookies without those fucking icing bottles? 

Mickey began to Google ways to decorate cookies and found a two minute video. When it ended, Mickey was ready to give Liam some cash and tell him to go to Jewel. 

How was he supposed to make those little swirls? What about stripes? And what the fuck were they supposed to do with a pumpkin and a train?

“You could decorate it like the Polar Express,” Liam suggested popping into the kitchen and seeing Mickey holding up the train cookie cutter and his cell phone.

Mickey turned around and glared at him. “Do I look like I know what the fuck the Polar Express is?”

Liam smirked, but Mickey was happy to note didn’t comment. 

“Go watch Franny. This is going to take awhile.”

“What about dinner?”

“You asked us to make cupcakes and cookies and shit--”

“I asked for  _ help _ .”

“Yeah and we’re helping!”

“But what about dinner?”

Mickey scowled and reached into his wallet. He had two $20s. He handed them over to Liam - who if it was anyone else he wouldn’t trust to actually get the food, but Liam was reliable - and told him to order as many pizzas as he could for that amount of money. Liam mock-saluted him and headed back into the living room to watch Franny. He heard the TV stop and Liam talking to Franny about what kind of pizza she wanted.

“Get something with vegetables! No olives. Ian hates them,” Mickey yelled into the living room.

He saw Liam nod and Mickey took that as him agreeing to the kind of pizza they all wanted. He sighed and stepped back into the kitchen. Rubbing a hand across his face, he picked his phone up again to read through the recipe. 

He fucking hated how much people wrote about a simple recipe. Just tell him what he needed to do. He didn’t need to know how the baker felt putting in butter or how much their family loved that extra tablespoon of cinnamon or whatever. 

He’d read through the recipe three times now and it didn’t seem hard. It was the decorating he was afraid of. He’d never decorated anything in his life. It was going to be even more difficult since they didn’t have any proper tools. 

Hopefully, Ian had a bit more experience in that department, but Mickey somehow knew that once it came to frosting the cupcakes and the cookies, they were going to be up shit’s creek.

“Alright,” Mickey muttered, tapping his finger on the counter impatiently. 

How long did it take for him to change his fucking--

Ian came bounding down the stairs in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

“Alright, what are we doing?” he asked, pressing his hands together and looking at Mickey expectantly.

Irritably, Mickey said, “I told you I sent you the recipe.”

“Oh, right.” 

Ian ignored his husband’s tone and got out his phone and began to tap the screen. Mickey watched him read the screen and nod a few times. 

“Why do they write so much fucking nonsense? Why can’t they just tell you the fucking recipe? Why did this person write an essay about moist vanilla cupcakes?”

“Have you ever made cupcakes before?”

Ian looked over the top of his phone at him. Mickey was momentarily taken aback by the way his eyebrows arched in a look that plainly said, ‘are you serious?’

“I have younger siblings,” Ian said.

“So?”

“I think I had to help Debs or Carl bake for every holiday bake sale.”

An image of a younger Ian in an apron stirring batter appeared in Mickey’s head and he smirked. The anxious pressure that had been mounting since Liam had asked him to bake was slowly dissipating.

“It’s not too hard?” Mickey asked.

Ian shook his head. He was still silently scanning the website. Ian knew what they needed to do, it would be fine. 

If Mickey was being honest, he could’ve started baking before Ian got home. But he didn’t really want to do it without Ian. He had a feeling his husband would be better at this than he would. (And he was right.) 

“You’re making the cupcakes,” Mickey said slowly just in case he forgot.

And maybe a little part of him wanted to get Ian’s attention back on him.

Ian flicked him off without even looking up from the screen and Mickey smirked in amusement. Finally, he put his phone down and looked at Mickey. 

“You ready?”

Shrugging, Mickey placed the bowl he’d gotten from the shelf on the counter and began to empty the butter and sugar into the glass container. 

Watching him, Ian went to the same cupboard and got out the other bowl to begin his cupcakes. The two of them worked silently through the first part of their recipes. Although, the cacophony of some Christmas special was floating into the kitchen to create a holiday atmosphere. 

One he’d never had as a kid.

Mickey would never admit it, but he liked the warmth of the kitchen right now. He liked the sounds of the Christmas special in the background and with Ian now in the kitchen with him struggling through the baking process, it wasn’t as bad as he was dreading earlier. 

Maybe -  _ maybe  _ he’d admit to Ian that this could be a holiday tradition. Not baking for the kids, but just maybe making something together around the holidays and listening to Christmas music and…  _ Fuck _ , he sounded so fucking gay right now.

“Shit. Where’s the other bowl?” Ian asked. He searched through the cupboard for their third - and last - bowl, but came up empty handed.

“Which one?” Mickey asked in confusion.

“The  _ other _ bowl. You know, the glass one?”

Mickey looked down at the glass bowl he was using and then back at Ian who was  watching him.

“You mean this one?” Mickey asked quietly.

Ian narrowed his eyes at him, “we have a third bowl. We have two glass bowls and one

red one.”

“Nope.”

“What?”

“Carl broke it last weekend when he was practicing his nunchucks.”

Ian groaned, “I need a second bowl though.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Mickey muttered. He was just about finished blending the flour and  baking soda with the rest of the ingredients. He frowned when he read the next step though. He’d read this recipe  _ three fucking times _ . How did he miss that he needed to put it in the fridge for an hour?

“Shit.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I need to put it in the fridge.”

“So?”

“So, I don’t want to be up at midnight frosting fucking train cookies!”

Ian smirked at him. “But once you put the dough in the fridge I can finish off the cupcakes and you can help me. You scratch my back, I scratch yours type of a thing.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Mickey who couldn’t hold back a smile.

Leave it to Ian to make innuendos while they were covered in flour and Frosty The Snowman was playing in the background.

“So you’re going to help me when I have to frost the train and pumpkin cookies?”

Ian grinned at him and leaned in to kiss him on his lips. “I guess I can be persuaded.”

Mickey rolled his eyes playfully and kissed him again. The comforting familiarity of Ian pressed against him caused the remaning unease to deflate. Like a balloon of anxiety that had finally popped, he felt a little better - a little calmer. 

He realized as he moved away he hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss his husband in greeting when he came home. 

He didn’t like that at all. 

He brought him in again for another kiss and relaxed into it. 

He pushed his tongue past Ian’s lips and tangled his floury hands in his hair. This would probably get them more off track than he wanted, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret kissing his husband.

They only pulled away when they heard Liam yell, “I hear kissing! What happened to baking?”

They shared a look of annoyance. Although, Mickey couldn’t help but smirk when he saw how Ian’s hair was now a dusty red from the flour and sticking up everywhere after he’d run his hands through it. 

Mickey went back to finishing off the dough. Ian waited for Mickey to finish using their only other bowl, so he could continue making the cupcakes. 

“Want me to wrap those?” Ian asked. He nodded to the three lumps of dough Mickey had split.

Mickey nodded and handed over the seran wrap. Clumsily, they wrapped the lumps of dough and stuck them in the fridge. Ian set a timer on his phone and Mickey began to wash the bowl. Once it was clean and dry, he handed it over to Ian.

“Shit, this is half and half not milk,” Ian muttered, picking up the carton he’d thought was milk. Mickey laughed and Ian glared at him.

“Just substitute it.”

“But--”

“I’ll look up milk substitutes.”

Ian watched as Mickey clicked away on his phone. He glanced down at the mess of liquids in the bowl and debated starting to stir it together as he waited to figure out a milk substitute, but he was afraid of messing up the consistency. He re-read the third direction and realized with dread he’d forgotten to start the oven and to get out the muffin tin.

As Mickey stayed buried in his phone, Ian reached to the highest shelf to get out the one muffin tin they had. He took the butter and began to slather the pan since he couldn’t find Pam at the store and they had run out. 

“Did you find it yet?” Ian asked.

“It says a lot of things. I think we can use the half-and-half if we add water to it. It says 60% half-and-half and 40% water,” Mickey said slowly.

Ian could see him already doing the math. It never ceased to amaze him how Mickey was such a math whizz. It was just one of the many things that made him proud of his husband. 

“How much milk do you need?”

“One cup.”

“Oh that’s easy. Alright.” 

Mickey gently pushed Ian out of the way and took over adding the half-and-half and water concoction to the recipe. Then he stirred it until it was well combined. When he stepped away to let Ian take over again, he glared at him when he saw the bemused smile on his husband’s face.

“What?”

“Nothing. You.”

“What about me?”

Ian gave a little shrug and leaned in to kiss him. When he pulled away, Mickey was a pleasant pink color and Ian kissed his cheek. He grabbed the dry ingredients and added them to the wet ones. Blending everything together, he asked Mickey to grab the required amount of water and gently poured it in while he stirred.

“It looks really watery,” Mickey commented.

“The directions said that it should be thin.”

“Are thin and watery the same thing?”

Ian looked up at him and gave a little shrug. But he continued to stir the batter, making sure to get the sides.

“Hey, what are we doing for dinner?”

“Liam’s ordering pizza.”

“Is it just the four of us?”

“Yeah.”   


“Where’s Debbie and Carl?”

Mickey gave him a look and Ian frowned. 

“How did we get stuck doing this?”

“Cause we’re the favorite uncles.”

Ian snorted. Inspecting the dough, he figured this was as good as it was going to get. “I need your help getting this into the tin.”

Mickey grabbed the muffin tin and moved it to the other side of the counter where there was more room. Carefully, they worked together to pour the liquid into each little hole.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Mickey grumbled.   


“I’m trying to be careful!”

“You’re not filling them up far enough.”

“How do you know? You’ve never made cupcakes!”

“You make me watch all those fucking baking shows.”

“You don’t even want to be doing this.”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”

Ian paused in pouring the batter and looked at him. Mickey’s eyes were narrowed as if he were daring Ian to continue pushing him. Ian picked back up the bowl and continued pouring the batter.

“They could overflow and it’ll be a pain in the ass to get them out.”

“If you’d have bought those paper things--”

“Stop bake seat baking me! We already spent too much money on groceries this week as is!”

“Everyone in this fucking house works. How are we still low on money?” Mickey snapped.

Ian ignored him as he finished off the last tin.

“There’s still batter left.”

“I can see that.”

“We’ll just have to bake them in two batches,” Ian said dismissively. He set the half empty bowl on the counter and looked around the kitchen. He sighed and watched Mickey who was also taking in the state of the kitchen. There was spilled flour, sugar, dirty spoons, and forks everywhere. 

“We should probably clean up…” Ian muttered.

“Or we could wait till the end.”

Ian opened his mouth to argue when the doorbell rang. 

“Pizza’s here!” Liam yelled. He came in holding three pizzas and a little container of wings. 

“Finally, I’m starved,” Mickey said. He grabbed the food from Liam and set it on the table. Ian took out four plates and handed them out. Everyone piled their plates high with pizza and wings.

“How’s the baking coming along?” Liam asked after he inhaled two pieces of pizza.

Ian smiled around a bite of pizza, “good, good. The cupcakes are in the oven and we’re just waiting on the cookie dough to do whatever it is supposed to do in the fridge.”

“We’ll do all the decorating after dinner and you two can help,” Mickey said looking back and forth between Franny and Liam.

“Can’t. I have homework. Gotta read a book and write a book report,” Liam said shrugging.

“Why didn’t you do it during the day? You’ve been home all day,” Mickey asked incredulously. 

Liam gave a little shrug and went back to his pizza. 

“What about you Lil Red? Wanna help?” 

Franny shook her head. Her little red bun lost its shape from the quick movement. “Busy. Tea party with Mr. Teddy and Whaley.”

Ian frowned and looked at Mickey who had a matching look of disbelief on his face.

“So you two just expect us to bake this entire thing? You’re not helping at all?” Ian asked.

Liam raised his eyebrows and looked toward Franny who was munching on her pizza. “We’re busy. We’ll help with the next one.”

“There won’t be a next one,” Mickey said quickly.

“I’ll clean the kitchen when you’re done,” Liam said. He brought his plate to the overflowing sink and turned back to them with a little apologetic look.

Franny followed after Liam and a few minutes later they heard their little feet on the stairs.

“I feel like we just got duped by your niece and brother,” Mickey said quietly.

“They’re  _ your _ niece and brother in-law too,” Ian paused. “I think you’re right, though.”

The timer on his phone for the cookie dough went off and he shut it off quickly. The two of them finished up their pizza and put away the remaining slices. Mickey traded out the container of pizza for one of his four lumps of dough. They cleaned off the counter as best as they could to begin rolling them out.

“Hey! How long are the cupcakes supposed to be in there?” 

“Oh shit!” 

Ian quickly reached the oven and opened the door to find the tops of the cupcakes were charred. When he opened the door, a bubble of smoke came out and filled the kitchen with the smell of burnt cake.

“Shit!” Ian exclaimed. 

He went toward the back door and opened it to let out the smoke and then took the empty pizza box and tried to wave it around to break up the smoke. He could hear his husband laughing at him through the curtain of smoke.

“It’s not funny, Mick! I worked hard on those.” Ian hated the whine in his voice.

“At least there’s more batter.”

“But that’ll only make 12 cookies.”

“I literally could not give a fuck right now. I just want to finish this. Twelve fucking cupcakes are better than none.”

Ian sighed and then began to cough. He’d breathed in a healthy amount of smoke. Mickey got him a cup of water and he gulped it down. 

Slowly, he went over to the muffin tin and looked to see if the cupcakes could be salvaged. The tops of the cupcakes varied from black to a deep brown. He frowned down at them. All of his hard work had been for nothing. 

“Shit. Maybe if I put frosting on--”

“Nope.”

“It could work.”

Mickey peaked at them from over his shoulder. “Those look like the time Freddy-Five-Fingers tried to make a cake in the microwave. Remember that shit?”

Ian smirked at the memory. Freddy-Five-Fingers was in the cell five down from theirs and was always trying to make shit in the communal microwave. More times than not, he ended up burning whatever it was he was trying to make.

Mickey moved back toward the counter and picked up the rolling pin. Struggling to use it, he ended up hitting the dough like it was a punching bag and he was preparing for a boxing match.

Ian watched him for a moment until Mickey picked up the dough and slammed it back down on the counter.

“The fuck are you doing?” Ian asked.

“Rolling it out. This is what they do in those baking shows.”

“That’s for pizza.”

Mickey looked at him blankly. Pushing him aside, Ian picked up the rolling pin and began to press down on the dough. He began to roll it out, trying to make it as big as possible. 

Suddenly, Mickey shoved him to the side and took over the rolling. 

“I can fucking do it,” he grumbled.

He could see his biceps bulge as Mickey used the rolling pin. Ian smirked and reluctantly turned to the burnt cupcakes that were still in the tin. When they didn’t come out on their own, he picked up a knife and began to cut around them to help them pop out. His fingertips were burned from where he grabbed the still hot tin for too long. The kitchen was filled with Ian’s hisses of pain and Mickey’s grunts from rolling out the cookie dough. 

Once he got out all of the muffins, he reapplied the butter to the tin and then poured the batter back in. Making sure to set a timer, he sent them back into the oven. 

Turning to Mickey, he found him staring at the large sheet of dough in confusion.

“What?”

“I’m not sure what to do? Like where do you start? And do I do them all as pumpkins or trains? Also, how the fuck are we going to decorate these?”

“Mick, you like drawing. Figured, you’d be into the decorating part.”

Mickey flicked him off, which caused Ian to smile mischievously.

Ian plucked the pumpkin from his hand and began to press the cookie cutter into the dough. He started on the outside and slowly moved inwards to get as many cookies as possible from the dough.

“Where’s the sheet pan?”

“Oh shit,” Mickey said. He grabbed a sheet pan and spread butter all over it to make sure the cookies didn’t stick. Ian began to move the finished pumpkins onto the sheet pan making sure they weren’t too close together. 

“Put it in the oven and grab the other sheet pan.”

Mickey did as he was asked - and set the timer - and they prepared the cookies to go in once the cupcakes came out. 

“What are you going to do with these cupcakes?” Mickey asked.

Ian had managed to get most of them out unscathed, but some of them had turned into little piles of blackened cake instead of staying in their cupcake form. They were burnt and probably tasted awful. Ian shouldn’t feel bad about throwing them away, but growing up the way he did tossing out food was difficult to do.

“I dunno. Maybe frost them and pretend they aren’t burnt?”

Mickey laughed, “I’ll make the frosting.”

Ian’s phone went off signaling the cupcakes were ready. They checked the cookies while the door was open and saw they were almost done.

“See, this isn’t so bad,” Ian said, seeing the perfectly baked cupcakes. He silently thanked his lucky stars that this batch came out good.

“Remember that when we’re covered in frosting,” Mickey muttered.

Ian snickered and kissed the side of his husband’s head. Dipping a finger in the frosting, his eyes widened at the pow of sugar to his tongue.

“Jesus, that’s sweet.”

“Four cups.”

“Four cups of what?”

“Sugar.”

“Holy shit,” Ian muttered. “Maybe all that sugar will balance out the burnt cupcakes?”

Mickey gave him a ‘get real’ look. When the time went off, Mickey took out the next tray and studied them. 

“These don’t look half bad,” he mused.

“Let them cool and then we’ll decorate them,” Ian said. 

He’d wandered back over to the dough and was focused on fitting as many cookie cutouts in as possible. Mickey watched him for a moment. All of his concentration was on the task at hand, much as it always was with him. He’d never get over how focused Ian was with everything he did. From the bedroom to fucking cookies, Ian was  _ dedicated _ . 

Shaking his head a little, he went into the fridge and grabbed two beers. He popped them open and placed one next to Ian.

“Thanks,” he muttered. 

He was struggling to fit one last cookie in the dough. When he was finished, he turned to the cupcakes that were now cool enough. He carefully used a knife to scrape the sides to get the cupcakes out. He could feel Mickey watching him.

“You could help,” Ian snipped.

“Help how? Both sheet pans are being used and the frosting is already made.”

Ian cast him a quick glare that caused him to ruin one of the cupcakes. He swore quietly under his breath and made a mental note to patch up that cupcake with frosting.

After a few minutes, Mickey finished his beer and grabbed the now cooled cookies. 

“How do you want to decorate them?” Ian asked. 

“I don’t know. How do people decorate Christmas cookies that are actually pumpkins and trains?” Mickey asked sardonically.

Ian snorted and shrugged. “We could just put a shit ton of frosting on them. Kids like frosting.”

Ian took a knife and began to slather on the icing to the cupcakes. It didn’t look perfect by any means, but he figured with some sprinkles and shit no one would notice the difference. 

Since there was a bunch of frosting left, he plopped some on the burnt cupcakes, intent on making sure that Franny had 24 cupcakes exactly. 

“There!” Ian said looking at his handiwork. 

Mickey peeked at him over his shoulder and bit his lip to stop the laugh from escaping. The cupcakes didn’t look bad - exactly - but they definitely didn’t look like someone would pay money for them. The cupcakes were still a little too hot and the icing was melting. Ian kept adding more to those so there ended up being more icing than actual cupcake.

“Thought we were going to decorate them?” Mickey asked when he was sure he wouldn’t laugh.

Ian frowned, “I know they don’t look great, but--”

“No, no, they look fucking awful.”

“Mickey!” Ian glared at him.

Mickey laughed and held up his hands in a surrender motion. “I’ll make sure you don’t fuck up the cookies.”

“Thought you didn’t want to decorate anything.”

“Didn’t say that.”

Mickey turned back to the dough on the pretense of looking busy. In reality, he just didn’t want Ian to see the rosiness coloring his cheeks.

“This isn’t too bad, though, right?” Ian asked quietly.

At first, Mickey thought he was talking about the look of the cupcakes, but then he realized he was talking about the overall adventure of baking together.

Mickey looked over at him standing near the oven and he considered saying something caustic or humorous. Instead, he smiled at him and turned back to the dough. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his husband looking at him fondly. 

“I’ll put them in a container for her,” Ian said. He stuffed the cupcakes into the tin and closed them up. It ended up looking like a sea of messily applied frosting.

“They’re like four. She can just say she helped decorate,” Mickey said when Ian continued to study the cupcakes with a serious expression.

“Yeah, true. But they could’ve looked better. What if the other kids--” 

“We’ll do better with the cookies.” 

Ian nodded, put the lid on the container, and turned to the cooled down cookies. 

“I feel like they should look more Christmas-y,” Ian mused when he looked down at a few of the pumpkins and trains. His knife had a large scoop of frosting on it, but he hadn’t made a move to start frosting them like he had with the cupcakes.

“What do you fucking propose? I’m not carefully frosting 40 fucking cookies cause you want them to look like one of those stupid baking shows you like,” Mickey grumbled. “Besides, you forgot the tubes of icing, so we need to use knives.”

“We could’ve used a plastic bag.”

“I looked. Don’t have any. Debs took the last of them.”

Ian frowned and looked down at the cookies. “They just kinda look boring. Even if I put frosting on them and sprinkles.”

“Here.”

Mickey took the knife from him and began to frost one of the cookies. With the knife, he began to draw a swirl. Taking one of the sprinkle containers Ian had used for the cupcakes, he began to shake them onto the frosted cookies. It still didn’t look that great, but it did look a little more fun than just frosting and sprinkles.

“If we had food dye, we could use that.” 

Ian shook his head, “Lip used the rest of it.”

Mickey frowned, “what--”

“Don’t ask.”

Mickey grumbled about how Lip didn’t even _ live there anymore _ , but Ian ignored him. He took the knife from Mickey and copied his swirl or sometimes he did zigzags. It didn’t look great, but it was all they could do.

“That’s called feathering,” Mickey said proudly from over his shoulder.

Surprised, Ian looked at him, but found he’d already moved away to the oven to take out the next batch.

Ian followed his husband’s direction and began to frost, feather, sprinkle, and repeat until all the cookies were completed. They didn’t look much better, but they didn’t look as boring. It probably helped that the sprinkles were rainbow. 

Mickey began to place the finished cookies in a container to make room for the next batch.

“I don’t think they’re all going to fit,” Ian said. They still had at least two dozen more cookies.

“We’ll just make them fit.” Mickey began to jam more of the cookies in the container, until Ian put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“That’s not working.”

“What else do you suggest?” 

“Liam!”

Liam came hurrying in as if he was anticipating the call. “What?”

“Do you have another container to put these cookies in?” Ian asked, gesturing to the table. 

Liam nodded and left the kitchen. 

Ian and Mickey shared a look. Mickey gave a little shrug when Liam came hurrying back down the stairs with a plastic container. 

“Here.”

Ian took it from him and began to put the rest of the cookies in it. 

With a furrowed brow, Liam watched him place the cookies carefully into the container. 

“What? You don’t like them?” Ian asked looking down at their handiwork.

“They’re kinda…” Liam trailed off.

Mickey glared at him and Liam tried to put on a smile.

“They’re great.”

“Thanks,” Ian said, missing the exchange.

“Thanks for doing this,” Liam said suddenly.

Ian smiled at his youngest brother and rubbed the top of his head. “You’re welcome.”

“Fiona would usually do this and, well, thanks,” he stuttered out.

“No problem, kid. Now where’s Franny?” Mickey said.

As if on cue, Franny came hurrying in excitedly.

“Cupcakes?”

Ian nodded and grabbed the container to show her. Franny’s face lit up when she saw them and smiled up at her uncles. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Mickey saw Liam’s cringe, but he ignored him. They might not look great, but the smile on Franny’s face was worth it. 

“I’m going to put them on the highest shelf so Frank doesn’t get them and tomorrow we’ll take them to school,” Ian explained patiently.

Franny nodded giddy and clapped her hands. She hugged Ian and looked over at the small pile of cookies they still had to finish frosting.

“Can I have a cookie?” she asked.

“Ask Liam,” Ian said.

Liam nodded and they went to the table to decorate the rest of the cookies.

Mickey grinned at the sight and turned to Ian to make a quip when he found Ian smiling adoringly at him.

“This wasn’t so bad,” Ian muttered.

“It was okay.”

“We could make a tradition--”

“You’re such a soft motherfucker,” Mickey muttered. He leaned in to kiss him and grinned at the dazzled look on Ian’s face.

“Before you get ahead of yourself, wait till you taste them,” Mickey said.

“I bet they’re awesome.”

Mickey snorted and moved to the table to frost two cookies. He made sure to put a bunch of sprinkles on them. 

Putting the overflowing containers on the highest shelf as promised, he moved toward the table where Liam and Franny were giggling as they ate their cookies. Mickey handed him one of the cookies and they made a cheers motion. They grinned at each other and took a large bite. 

Ian watched as Mickey took his first bite, waiting to see his reaction. Mickey was watching Ian chew. After they swallowed, they both began to speak.

“It’s not bad.”

“It’s okay.”

Sharing a proud grin, they took another bite and looked over at Franny and Liam who were also munching away.

Once they were finished with their cookies, Ian got Liam’s attention.

“So you’re cleaning up, right?”

Liam snorted and tapped his wrist as if he were wearing a watch.

“Gotta go to bed. School tomorrow,” Liam said. He grabbed another cookie, took Franny’s hand, and they both hurried upstairs.

Mickey and Ian stared after Liam and Franny incredulously then looked around the kitchen to take in how messy it was.

“Shit.”

“Fuck.”

They both looked at each other, waiting to see which one would suggest cleaning or leaving it to tomorrow. With a nod, they put some of the frosted cookies on a plate and the rest away, grabbed a few more beers, and headed upstairs. 

“How does it feel to survive your first late night bake session?” Ian asked. He stripped out of his dirty clothes and collapsed on the bed.

_ Fucking finally. _

Mickey shrugged and watched him. Slowly, he began to take off his shirt. “When we have kids, they’re not waiting till the last minute.”

“Shit happens, Mick. Kids forget.”

“Still--”

“Besides, it was kinda fun.”

Mickey thumbed at the area above his lip as he watched Ian gaze at him with that particular look he always saved for him.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said eventually.

“Maybe we could do it next year.”

“You already said that.”

“Maybe not for Liam and Franny though. We’d have our own place...our own traditions…just the two of us...”

Ian grinned up at him and made a gesture for him to join him. 

Mickey finished stripping out of his own clothes and crawled in next to him. He leaned in to kiss him tasting the remnants of frosting on his lips. Making a little surprised noise at the unexpected sweetness, he deepened the kiss and they quickly became distracted by other more tantalizing things than baked goods.

Maybe today hadn’t been as much of a waste as Mickey had thought. 

The look on his husband’s face as they baked and worked together to create something for the kids, it was  _ nice _ . It was the stuff traditions were made of. 

* * *

Later, as they were drifting off to sleep, Mickey heard the back door slam and Debbie yell out, “who the fuck made this mess?”

Ian tightened his grip around him and he felt the tickle of his soft, breathy laughter against his ear. 

He fell asleep to Ian’s quiet laughter and his warm embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please comment or leave a kudo if you'd like. 
> 
> And if you're on Tumblr (I always forget to add this) you can find me at Livinginsunnyhell.


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